Subtle Shift (BWWM)complete

Chapter 5

I was wishing that this class was over.  I was not listening and had definitely not been reading Romeo and Juliet as the teacher had told us to do again.  This was old news.  Every student here had thoroughly covered every angle of the story in Junior High. I was currently deeply inside the second book, Rogues Kiss. Good thing these were not the days my mother went to school, or I would have been corrected with a spanking.  Luckily it wasn't, and I cared enough to actually come, but that was more about the surprise questions that always managed to show up on our quizzes. However, I digress.  The subject was boring, the class was boring, so I brought novels to entertain myself.

"I hungered for him the way a child hungered for candy. Indecent need caused me to feel flushed, though my cocoa colored skin hid most of my yearning. I, who hadn't shared my body with anyone. My friends all believed that I would die pure. What they didn't know wouldn't hurt them, though my body hadn't felt the strenuous results of love, yet."

I heard some commotion in the distance, but since the opening to my book was so intense, I ignored the commotion for another sex scene. I struggled to read on, blocking out a voice that seemed to come from a far way, "Craft."

I flipped the page; I was hoping the girl would finally kiss the guy. "Craft."  I eagerly let my eyes move across the page, "CRAFT!"  I jumped up, causing my seat to fall back. I tripped over it, fell sideways and landed on the ground, only to meet the eyes of an annoyed Professor Richardson—whom I assumed yelled in my ear.

He straightened himself and stood tall.  His dark brown eyes narrowed under bushy brows and I heard him growl.

"Ms. Craft, would you be kind enough to show Mr. Ling to the Administrative Building."

I scrambled to get to my feet and nodded without meeting his eyes, pulled my blue sweater straight, and dusted off my jeans.  I quickly dropped my book on the table, and turned my attention to the front, only to meet the face of a very good looking man. His eyes slightly almond shaped, were filled with amusement. Feeling the heat of embarrassment rise in my cheeks, I turned my eyes away from his face and let them drop only to see Bethany snickering at my pain. She tried to choke it down only to let out a loud snort.

Professor Richardson of course couldn't let that slide, he smirked, "Ms. Hernandez-Zehertgruber, if you could keep the pig noises to a minimum I would appreciate it."

Bethany's face turned an amazing shade of red, as the rest of the class fell into boisterous laughter.  I quickly made my exit, walking towards Ling I motioned for him to follow me into the hallway.  I mentally mapped the fastest route to the Administrative Building, even with my embarrassing fall playing over and over in my head.  I was so caught up in my own thoughts, that when I suddenly felt his hand tough mine, I snapped to attention, turned around, only to be too close to J. Ling, because he was way too good looking to keep a casual demeanor.

"Aggh!"  I yelled out and fell back two steps, and stared at him in shock...Yes, I'd just done this in a public area. Some students and staff walked by trying to act like they did not witness insanity, while others just stared at me in confusion.  I slowly lowered my hand from where I'd raised it into karate chop, excuse the pun.

J. Ling coughed into his hand and seemed to be trying to hold in his laughter at my behavior, "I'm sorry, I didn't expect you to react, well..." He followed his sentence up with a shrug.

 I looked him up and down, and crossed my arms, showing that I was prepared to defend myself if necessary. I frowned and studied him closely. "Sorry," I said, "why did you grab my hand?  Is something wrong?"

He shook his head, his hair brushing against his collar, "Nothing. I just didn't want to lose you, and I don't really know your name, and calling out 'hey you' didn't really seem the right thing to do."  

I just stared blankly at him. I wondered how he couldn't know my name considering that Richardson had yelled it earlier to get my attention.

All my folks are known to be talkative, boisterous, and energetic.  Yet here I was—completely dumbfounded and drawing a blank for something to say. Usually, I would chat away, my curls bouncing with my energy but instead I found myself slightly intimidated.  Time to get over myself, I introduced myself.  Again!   "Oh right.  I'm Corrine Craft, known as Corra by most people."  I extended my hand for him to shake.  He just looked at it for a minute, after a while I was pretty sure it couldn't get any more awkward, he finally grabbed my hand. I felt a sudden shock of heat; I looked over my hand wondering if I had been burned. Seeing no burn, I released his hand. 

J. Ling not noticing my odd behavior introduced himself. "I'm Jin Ling.  Pleasure to meet you.  I am Professor Richardson's new assistant."

Giving a cursory head nod at this exchange of information we walked next to each other, and enjoyed each other's company. Surprisingly, I began to notice how attractive he was with his dark eyes and hair that appeared so neatly prepared, plus he also smelled really nice.  My thoughts ran away from me, Hhmm, spring must be starting early and it is fall.

Despite my earlier psychotic behavior, I finished my school day quite pleasantly and decided to forget the earlier part of the day.  I sat in my room typing on my laptop when Bethany, with her usual flare, slammed through the door.  The air around her was filled with electricity.  I was about to say something sarcastic about her exciting heritage from Panama, but she looked at me with a frown of displeasure, and I decided to hold my tongue. Instead, I put forth my best greeting and still earned a distracted frown.

She dropped on to the couch, groaning as if the entire earth's weight had just fallen from her shoulders.  Looking at her feet, the question came to mind, "How you can walk on those knife-like stilts back and forth to class?"  I was referring to the bright pink stilettos that adorned her dainty, tanned feet. If Bethany wasn't wearing stilettos, she was wearing platforms. She turned her head towards me. It seemed to take a lot of effort.  She drawled, "It is tradition, Dearie, Hernandez women wear nothing but heels."

We both sat there laughing as we recalled how her mother always worked this philosophy into every conversation.  It  reminded me of how much I enjoyed hanging at her parents place from time to time.  The fact that her mother had married a German man did not mean that she should switch to sensible work shoes.  The horror in her mom's expression made her position clear.  Her mom recalled a discussion among medical professionals that mentioned Birkenstocks should be worn by the staff.  She did not hold back and commented, "Even if nurses preferred those square blocks on their feet comfort should always be designed in a nice pump".  Mrs. or Fraulein Syleena Santiago Henandez-Zehetgruber would forever be a 'Hernandez' woman; when it came to her feet, the rule stood:  heels always.

Laughing, I leaned on the back of my computer seat. "Well since our elevator is broken today, I'm sure your feet are cursing the Hernandez tradition."

A pillow hit me in the head, without warning.  Bethany dragged her body into the bathroom, making clothing selections as she prepared for work.  Bethany worked at the suave restaurant also called...CHIC it was associated with the club.  Everyone agreed that the name was lame but the place paid pretty well.

I turned back to my computer while she finished getting dressed for work.  I could never understand why it took Bethany more than hour to change.

Especially since she wore a uniform, and not fashion costumes at the restaurant.  Bethany's high heels tapped against the wood floor as she headed towards the door, she yelled out. "Bye, dear, I'll see at you the B.O.S tonight, right?"

I nodded and hopped that she could see me as she left.

The typing had to continue until I completed a review filled with my opinion on the book Fifty Shades of Grey. Something that I shouldn't be doing anyway, but since another spoiled brat elitist had managed to dump the work on me, there would be another article written by me, but put under another Babe's name.

 This should make me angry but instead it felt nice to have fewer grammatical errors on finished work. Honestly, the book had caused my imagination to soar, but, as usual, those thoughts were put into the journal hidden under a panel beneath my bed.